


Paradise in a Dream

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dancing, Dreams, Dreamsharing, First Kiss, M/M, Star Trek Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: Dreams are funny things. They can be fantastically magical or vividly, terrifyingly real. Sometimes, though...Sometimes, they are both.(Written for the 2019 Star Trek Reverse Big Bang)





	Paradise in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 Star Trek Reverse Big Bang! My artist was the lovely Ahumok, and this fic would not be possible if not their amazing art (which will be embedded at the end of the fic when I can). I had lots of fun writing this one, and special thanks to the mods for running another awesome reverse bang!
> 
> Warnings: one section of this fic talks about Tarsus IV and mentions the effects of starvation on the human body as well as thoughts of dying, and there is a brief mention of masturbation.

 

_“If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awake — Aye, what then?”_ \- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

* * *

Far apart, on different planets, in far off star systems, two boys dream. They are approximately the same age, just a couple years difference, and they usually dream the dreams of boys. They find their other selves running and playing and defeating some great evil, maybe even flying among the stars. Interestingly though, they find themselves dreaming of strange places, so different from their own.

Spock of Vulcan dreams of golden oceans under clear blue skies, of black and white beasts lowing under a yellow sun, of a strange liquid falling from the skies. He can almost smell this strange world: fresh and wet and sometimes stinking. It’s so different from his own, and he finds himself longing to visit it in every dream. Sometimes he hears laughter, that of a child, ringing and clear and sweet. Spock likes those dreams best.

Jimmy Kirk of Terra finds himself exploring vivid red sands under a burning sky, the heat flooding into his very bones. He sees strange creatures like giant yellow-and-green lions, odd little brown beasts with six legs and two tails, large vividly blue birds winging against a pinkish sky. It’s almost unbearably dry, his breath catching in his chest every time he breathes. He still likes it. Jimmy sometimes wakes with the lingering scents of alien spices in his nose and the rhythm of strange music in his ears. He can’t wait to dream of this place again.

Of course, neither boy tells anyone of his fantastical dreams. No. The dreams belong to them and them alone. No one else deserves to hear the details of his peculiar dreamworld. Spock knows he will be told it is illogical to dream of such things, even to dream at all. Jimmy fears that if he tells anyone about his dreams, they’ll go away forever, and he’ll never dream of his magical world again. So they dream in secret, each one longing for the next visit to his own little dreamworld.

As they grow older, the dreams stay much the same, all red and gold and vivid colors and more vivid sensations. They start to feel emotions that aren’t theirs.

Jimmy is now Jim. He still dreams of the red sands and delicious spices, but he _feels_ things now: the grit of the sand, the heat of the air on his face, anger churning in his stomach. The anger hurts, though, cuts through him like a knife, an anger born of isolation and ostracization. He feels it as surely as if it were his own. There are stars above him, in some ways familiar, in others utterly alien, their configurations unknown to him even though he knows he’s seen them in his dreams before. He wishes he could talk to people in his dreamworld, but he’s never actually encountered another person. If he did, he could ask them questions about this place and learn more.

Spock longs for his visions of golden seas waving under blue skies. Even the smells that make him wrinkle his nose are welcome after some days. Here, in this alien world, he is free from bullying and isolation. He can simply enjoy things like rain and cool air and songbirds. Pride wells in his chest like he only feels when he overtakes his peers in lessons or when his father compliments him or his mother smiles at him. It makes him feel good. He gazes up at the stars, their patterns unfamiliar to him, and he draws new shapes in them by thinking of the strange animals he’s seen in his dreamworld. This is something he has that no one else on Vulcan does. Spock feels that overwhelming pride again.

Their dreamworlds are their own, bringing their own kind of peace to each boy as they live on their separate worlds, each blissfully unaware of the other.

* * *

 

Jim still dreams when he goes to live with his family on Tarsus IV. He’s excited for the opportunity to live somewhere other than Terra, somewhere in space, with family he has yet to meet and know. (He doesn’t know, of course, that his excitement bleeds through to someone else’s dreams.) He spends his first week just exploring the small patch of planet he’ll be calling home with eight thousand other colonists, all living peacefully together in their little community. It’s stereotypically bucolic except for the extremely modern-looking laboratory building in the main square. It’s perfect to Jim.

It’s perfect for about three months.

The blight is a surprise. No one expected a blight to destroy all the crops on the planet, particularly the scientists who had so carefully crafted blight-proof specimens. The geneticists and agriculturists and botanists are in the labs almost constantly, working feverishly, desperate to reverse the damage to the colony’s only food supply. The government institutes rationing. The scientists are still desperate into a second week. The rationing is increased. A curfew is now enforced. One of the botanists comes over late one night, breaking curfew, and speaks in hushed, angry tones with Jim’s uncle. Jim and his cousins only hear snatches of the conversation: conspiracy, mass murder, cut communications.

Two days later, the lab catches fire and burns to the ground with a number of scientists inside, and for the first time since the beginning of the blight, Jim falls asleep with fear tearing at his gut.

Across the quadrant, Spock feels a wave of terror roll up his spine, making his whole body shiver. His mother looks at him with concern. He wonders if he should be concerned, too. His dreams are no longer pleasant. He sees barren fields and feels hunger in his belly and fear in his chest, feels them so strongly it sometimes wakes him or pulls him from meditation. Still, he dare not confide in anyone.

Jim goes to sleep every night with hunger gnawing away at his stomach until it hurts, until he feels like crying. (Spock wakes from his slumber with the worst stomach ache he’s ever had.) Starvation affects Jim’s whole life, makes him thin and weak and painful. No one has died yet, not as a result of starvation. His aunt and uncle try to calm him and his cousins, but they are so obviously afraid that it doesn’t do much good.

Spock’s mother constantly looks at him with worry, watches him barely eat and get skinnier. He just doesn’t feel that hungry despite the ever-present pit in his stomach. If his father notices, he doesn’t say anything. His teachers seem to chalk it up to his human half manifesting in some strange way, and the other students stop bullying him for some reason, too. Interesting… he’d always read that predators destroy the weak. His usual bullies have sensed a weakness and backed off.

Jim runs as fast as he can from the square, the sound of phaser fire still buzzing in his ears, tears stinging his eyes. He thinks others are running too, but he can’t be sure. He can’t turn to look. There are woods outside the colony’s fence, and he knows where the holes in the fence are. His stomach churns and his muscles ache and his lungs burn. He can’t stop running until he reaches the woods. He’ll be safe in the woods.

Michael wakes Spock and tells him he was having a nightmare, that he was breathing hard and crying, but that’s okay because she has nightmares too, from the time before she was his sister. She wraps him in a hug and tells him it was only a dream. None of it was real. Spock doesn’t have the words to say just how real it all feels to him.

(He feels like he’s being hugged, a warm embrace from someone who loves him. He pretends it’s real.)

It’s strange to think that he is now waiting to die. Jim no longer looks like himself. His hair is thinning and his skin is flaking, his belly bloated but still so empty, his limbs stick thin. Maybe he should’ve stayed in the square to die. The phaser would at least have been quick, but there’s something strangely soothing about choosing his own fate, about dying in the quiet woods alone. He still dreams of his other world, of red sand and delicious spices. He wishes he could talk to someone there. He wishes he could ask them if he could stay forever.

Spock wakes with a sob, suddenly acutely aware of his hunger and sadness and pain. Michael and his parents and even Sybok come to see what’s wrong with him. Thankfully, his mother shoos them all out, and now that they’re alone, she finally coaxes the truth from him, making a solemn vow not to tell anyone. He doesn’t need to have his head looked at and he doesn’t need a Vulcan Healer digging through his mind. He gets a swift sense of relief when he dreams the next night and still sees a peaceful wood around him.

Everyone tells Jim it’s a miracle he lived so long under such conditions. Of course, Jim knows it’s a miracle, so he agrees. He doesn’t tell anyone of his dreams except for a young Starfleet officer, the one who found him. He’s handsome, with a kind face, black hair and bright blue eyes and a warm smile that soothes Jim easily. Chris listens with that warm smile and tells Jim that his dreams sound wonderful, that he’s glad they helped Jim keep living. Jim likes Chris. (One night, Spock dreams of a nondescript smile and vivid blue, a dream that leaves him more content than he’s been in months.)

He feels safe. Both of them feel safe at last.

* * *

 

The boys have grown into teenagers, into young men, and the dreams of young men bring new challenges.

Some of the youths Spock knows begin their first _pon farr_ , the _plak-tow_ taking them over and making them worse than usual as their mating drive kicks in. They begin pairing off with one another, and it’s just one more thing that makes Spock stand out from the crowd. He thinks of the one his parents promised him to, a girl named T’Pring, and his stomach twists sharply. (Across the quadrant, Jim feels the same twisting in his gut even though he’s only eating his breakfast.) T’Pring is very nice. She’s nicer to him than anyone else is, but he doesn’t think he wants to spend his life with her. He doesn’t know if there’s anyone he wants to spend his life with. If he’s lucky, _pon farr_ will never affect him. But there’s always the possibility there could be someone...

Jim realizes with a sharp start that people are attracted to him, and even more surprising, he is attracted to people. He’s beginning to notice the looks that other people his age give him, the way they look him up and down or bite their lip or blush. He catches himself doing the same things. A sudden shyness takes him over as he talks with a boy who’s been his friend since they were children. Heat rises in his cheeks when one of the girls in his advanced physics class looks at him and asks a question about their homework. Sometimes, however, he feels a strange revulsion to it all he can’t quite explain. He knows he wants to be with someone. He just doesn’t know who that someone is.

They still have their dreamworlds, but their dreams shift now. They begin to feel another presence, a ghost sharing their dreams, always just out of sight and reach and hearing. Each boy thinks if he simply believes hard enough, thinks hard enough, dreams hard enough, that other person will manifest more fully. Neither dares hope this is the person they could love forever. That would be too beautiful, too perfect.

So Spock ignores the tug in his gut and the strange and lusty thoughts he has of people he’s never met. Jim ignores the brief, sinking feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach when he thinks of how attractive he finds someone.

They certainly don’t tell anyone of the way they swear they can feel someone else’s pleasure when they masturbate. That’s a secret each one keeps to himself… himself and his little dreamworld and his mysterious ghost.

* * *

 

Their dreams peter off a bit as they get older. Jim has joined Starfleet and has a full course load at the Academy. Spock is not only learning but teaching at the Academy. A good night’s sleep (or meditation) can be hard to come by. Certainly there are nights when Jim is too tired to dream, just dropping into his bed after studying and homework and falling right to sleep. Spock sleeps less but needs to meditate more, and to calmly meditate he needs to keep his favorite dreams at bay.

Their ghosts have more of a form now, a bigger presence in their minds. There are still no real determining features, but that doesn’t bother either of them. Spock enjoys the carefree spirit who feels so many emotions so strongly and openly, and Jim revels in the cool-headed logic of the one who shares his dreams. They balance each other so beautifully that it really is a shame they will never meet.

They mostly only dream of Starfleet Academy and San Francisco now. How curious...

* * *

 

“ _Help!_ ”

Jim surges awake with a gasp, startling his half-asleep roommate. Fear tears at his chest. Pain throbs in his leg, his thigh burning. The other lieutenant looks at him with concern, especially when he asks, “Did you say something, Sykes? Did you yell?”

“No, I was almost asleep when you just shot up awake like you got shocked. You okay, Kirk?”

“I-... I don’t know… I suppose it was just a dream.”

He knows better, of course. Jim Kirk isn’t stupid. He’s known for a long time now that his dreams are not just dreams. Somewhere, out there in the galaxy, someone is hurt, someone he’s grown to love even though he doesn’t know who they are. Jim reaches down, touches his leg, expects to come back with blood on his hand. He’s almost startled not to see blood. He’s definitely startled when he realizes he expected the blood to be green.

Far away, on a barely explored planet, Spock shakes with fear. He’s never been in this kind of danger before. His leg throbs, his thigh burning. He cries out once more. Someone has to find him. This wound is entirely survivable… should his crewmates return him to the ship. He’s wracked with another frightened tremble. They _have_ to find him.

“Spock! There you are!”

Captain Pike comes running over, his eyes wide, the stunning blue catching and holding Spock’s attention. He drops beside Spock, almost skidding in the grass, relief and concern warring for prominence in his expression.

“God, Spock, I was so worried! Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Yes, captain, my leg-”

Pike swears softly and examines his thigh, careful not to touch any exposed skin. It still hurts, though, and Spock hisses at the pain.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you back to the ship. Everyone else in the landing party made it back alright. I just needed to find you,” Pike tells him.

Something warm glows in Spock’s chest, so much so he thinks that Pike must be able to see it. He is important to Pike. He is important to someone. Joy overflows his entire body as Pike helps him to his feet and calls for the transporter to beam them up to the Enterprise. (On his own ship, Jim feels the prideful, joyous glow as if it were his own. Sykes asks him why he’s smiling all the sudden. He doesn’t have an answer.) Once he’s in the sickbay, Spock is surprised to find his crewmates coming to see him, to check on him, to make sure he’s okay. Even Number One comes to speak with him, a smile barely on her face. The whole time, save for a few minutes where he steps into the corridor to give orders, Pike stays with Spock in sickbay.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Captain,” Spock tells him quietly, “As you heard the doctor say, I am perfectly fine and will soon recover fully.”

“I know, I know… but I’d like to. I was very worried about you, Spock. We could’ve lost you down there.”

“But you did not.”

“We could have. It was a very close thing,” Pike says shifting his chair closer to Spock’s bed, “I know you were afraid, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be afraid. I only know just a little bit of Vulcan teachings, but I know they say that you should be feeling your emotions and knowing what they are. That isn’t letting them control you. It’s understanding why you’re feeling them. I’ve used that tenet quite a few times myself over the years. You should know it far better than I do, Spock.”

“I do, Captain-”

“Good. Alright, I’ll leave you alone now, Spock. Get some rest so we can have you back on the bridge.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pike smiles at him, true and bright, and Spock feels his lips quirk up to return it.

Jim is asleep again, finally, and he sees bright white light and a familiar smile paired with vivid blue. He sleeps through the rest of his night until the alarm goes off for him to start his shift, residual joy still warm in his chest.

* * *

 

Both of them feel joy tinged with sadness. Jim is elated to be captaining the Enterprise, the most advanced ship in the fleet, for an incredible five-year mission, though he’s sad to leave his friends and crew on his previous ship. Spock is happy to see Captain Pike move up the chain of command and get the chance to teach, which Pike has always wanted, but he’s also devastated to see the man leave.

“Don’t worry, Spock,” Pike tells him with a smile, “You’re going to like Kirk. I know it. He’s a good man, with good sense and a good head on his shoulders. I know you two are going to get along just fine.”

Spock does believe him, but it doesn’t make him any less upset.

Jim fidgets with the cuffs of his new uniform. It’s the cuffs that keep throwing him off, extra gold indicating his higher rank continually catching in the light. He almost feels self-conscious. He’s the youngest captain in the fleet, after all. There are lots of eyes on him, waiting for him to either succeed or miserably fail. He plans on blowing all their expectations out of the water. He’s already lived through so much and come out alive. He can certainly take on captaincy.

Pike greets him warmly on the transporter pad, smiling brightly, the same smile that put Jim at ease back on Tarsus IV so many years ago. Jim follows the man eagerly, listening to the way he talks about his ship and crew, making note of every nook, cranny, and Jeffries tube along the way. A good captain knows their ship inside and out.

“And this is my science officer, Commander Spock,” Pike explains, “He’ll be staying on as your science officer… and your first officer, if you’d like. This is just my opinion, of course, but he might be very helpful as your second-in-command since he’s been on the ship for some time now.”

“I agree, Captain Pike. I would like very much if Mr. Spock stayed on as my first officer,” Jim grins, holding his hand up in the ta’al, just as he’d been practicing since he knew he would be meeting a Vulcan.

Spock simply raises an eyebrow, no other change in expression, and mirrors Jim’s gesture. It’s impressive that this Terran would take the time to learn the proper Vulcan greeting. Most Terrans instinctively stick out their hands for their traditional greeting of ‘shaking hands,’ something which Vulcans find rather distasteful due to their touch telepathy. Jim is looking at him curiously now, his head tilted at a slight angle.

“Mr. Spock… have we-... have we met before?” Jim asks quietly.

“I do not believe so, Captain Kirk. My memory is quite impeccable. I’m sure I would have recalled a previous meeting.”

“Yes… of course…”

Something about Spock is so familiar, though, that Jim can’t shake the feeling they’ve somehow met before. Maybe he saw him at the Academy, or attended a lecture with him. It’s possible he’s seen him but never spoken to him. Jim quickly shakes the strange feeling and grins, saying, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward to working with you, Spock.”

“And I with you, Captain.”

Pike is still grinning himself, and neither Spock nor Jim can figure out why. They just follow him into the briefing room, calling up more of the senior officers so everyone can officially meet and know who to call in a jam. Everyone seems very competent, especially the chief engineer and the chief communications officer, and Jim is feeling more and more excited to undertake this historic five-year mission.

It’s the first of its kind. No one’s ever gone to some of the places they plan on going or strayed so far away from the center of the quadrant. There’s going to be a lot of danger and strange beings, but Jim wouldn’t have it any other way. Thankfully, neither would Spock. The whole ship is thrumming with excitement and anticipation. Jim takes to humming as he helps prepare the ship for her first trip into the truly unknown. It’s a silly habit but one that calms him and helps him focus. Sometimes the communications officer, Uhura, joins in, both of them making a little harmony together.

“I’m glad there’s someone else on the ship who appreciates music, Lieutenant,” Jim tells her warmly, “I was hoping I wouldn’t be alone in that indulgence.”

“We’ll have to get together and compare musical tastes, captain,” she smirks.

Jim just laughs and continues humming as they work on a panel together. Nearby, Spock is working on his own panel, attempting to recalibrate his instruments just the way he likes. The humming, far from annoying him as he thought it would, helps him focus on his work. It’s pleasant.

Soon enough, the ship is ready. They’ll head out from spacedock in the morning. The ship buzzes like a hive, everyone ready to go, not wanting to wait anymore to start their great adventure. It takes Jim a long time to finally go to sleep, but when he does, he still dreams of the ship. He walks the corridors, a strange whiff of familiar spices in his nose. Spock tries to meditate, needing to deal with his excitement, but when he closes his eyes, he hears a familiar humming.

* * *

 

“Spock, would you tell me about Vulcan?” Jim asks, moving a chess piece.

“Vulcan itself is a broad subject, Captain. Is there something specific you would like to know?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Just-... I’ve never been there. I’ve seen pictures, of course, but pictures aren’t the same thing as being there.”

“So you would like to know about the physical qualities of the planet?”

“I want to know about everything,” Jim replies playfully, “but I suppose the physical qualities of the planet will be a good start.”

Jim is really testing a theory. His dreams have taken on a startling level of clarity, and he’s worried about what it could mean. The planet from his childhood dreams still appears, except now he thinks he knows what planet he’s been seeing: Vulcan. He listens eagerly as Spock tells him of his home planet, of vivid red sands under a burning sky, almost able to feel the heat flooding into his very bones. He tells of strange creatures like giant yellow-and-green lions, odd little brown beasts with six legs and two tails, large vividly blue birds winging against a pinkish sky. His breath nearly catches in his chest every time he breathes, like he’s breathing that dry desert air.

“You seem… moved, Captain,” Spock comments.

“I am. Vulcan sounds quite… quite beautiful. Perhaps I’ll be able to see it in person one day and experience it for myself.”

Spock does not reply this time, simply moving his own chess piece as if there had not been any breaks in the play. The rest of the game is played poorly on Jim’s part. Even though he’d had an idea he’d been dreaming of Vulcan, he still startled to know he actually _has_ been dreaming of Vulcan. If Spock notices the change, he says nothing.

Spock, of course, has known his dreams were of Terra for a long time now. The golden oceans had been fields of wheat, the falling liquid simply rain. What truly concerns him was when he dreamed of Tarsus IV. He still doesn’t know how, but he seemed to be experiencing events as they happened. This in itself wouldn’t have been so concerning if he hadn’t discovered Jim had survived the massacre on Tarsus IV. Jim finally opened up to him about it, telling him what he experienced there with all the fear and terror and starvation.

And so Spock has to wonder if he has been dreaming of Jim this whole time.

Jim is wondering much the same, if he’s been dreaming of Spock.

Neither knows for certain if that thought is comforting or not.

* * *

 

They say nothing to each other because, of course, neither believes the other is experiencing the same thing. They don’t talk about it with each other because how could the other understand? Spock doesn’t want to lose Jim, and Jim certainly doesn’t want to lose Spock.

There comes a time, however, when they have to talk about it.

The _plak-tow_ is burning through Spock, his _pon farr_ descending on him like a predatory bird on its prey. He was hoping to be spared from this. He was hoping his friends would be spared from this. _Pon farr_ is something fairly distasteful, especially to him, and he’s dreading having to take care of it now. Jim is so gentle with him, treating him softly, not pushing but not backing down from trying to get information. Spock finds himself telling Jim all he can, wanting to ease his fears. Jim is like that. Spock is willing to tell him anything and everything… almost everything.

Jim doesn’t hesitate in breaking all the rules to take Spock to Vulcan. Spock means so much to him. How could he not? The fact that he gets to visit Vulcan with him is just a bonus. McCoy is with them, but Jim is only paying attention to Spock and the planet.

Vulcan is just as beautiful as it was in his dreams: red and pink and hot and dry. His breath catches in his chest at first, partly from the arid air and partly from the sight of the landscape. Things do not stay beautiful, though they do get more breathtaking.

Jim doesn’t know if he wants to kill T’Pring or kiss her. If Spock truly had feelings for her and she just threw him aside, then he’s angrier with her than he’s ever been with anyone. On the other hand, Jim gets to keep Spock on the Enterprise, and that is the best gift he could ask for. Sitting on the Enterprise with McCoy treating his wounds, Jim takes a moment to think back on their fight.

The raw power Spock exhibited was thrilling to see and terrifying to be on the wrong end of. There was something else, though, something Jim can’t quite explain. While he and Spock wrestled in the hot sand, Jim had felt… well, _something_ , a connection of some sort, like he could feel what Spock was feeling. Even now, he feels a haze of regret that isn’t his, sadness and grief floating within it. It’s not his. He knows it isn’t. He doesn’t know exactly how he knows that, but he supposes it isn’t important at the moment.

“Spock’s comin’ down in a minute,” McCoy tells him quietly, “I’ll go out and talk to him first. Just- Try not to shock him too bad, huh, Jim?”

“I’ll try, Bones.”

The feelings get stronger and stronger until he feels almost overwhelmed by them, sensing Spock is on the other side of the door. There’s a moment where he feels like he’s underwater, a rushing in his ears. Spock is so close. Jim hears him talking to McCoy. He’s so close…

Spock feels a strange trepidation. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t feel anything but grief. Jim is dead because of him, because he couldn’t control himself in the blood fever. There’s something, though, a glimmer of hope, something that tells him maybe Jim is still alive. Maybe McCoy saved him. Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe…

There’s a rush of joy as Jim steps into view, overwhelming and powerful, and neither man knows who precisely is feeling it. It probably doesn’t matter. Neither even thinks of it until they go to sleep that night and the dreams start again. This time, the other person in the dream is crystal clear.

Spock dreams of Jim, and Jim dreams of Spock.

* * *

 

“Do you like dancing, Mr. Spock?” Jim asks.

His tone is mischievous, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Spock’s lips form a smirk of their own, and he replies, “I don’t know, Captain. I have never been dancing before.”

“Spock, it’s Jim… and I think we should fix that. I get the feeling you would like dancing. It can be very mathematical.”

“Perhaps you should show me the mathematical properties of dance, Jim.”

A delicious shiver rolls up Jim’s spine when Spock says his name. It’s the way he says it, with an undertone of something scandalous, and it never fails to make Jim feel a little bit naughty. He gets the same feeling as he stands and offers his hand to Spock, knowing full well Spock is a touch telepath and his hands are a bit sensitive. Spock easily takes it and stands, stepping in close to Jim.

“Of course, Spock, I’m not really too knowledgeable about the mathematical side of dance,” Jim admits, still holding Spock’s hand and settling the other on his waist, “I find the emotional side of dancing to be far more interesting.”

Spock’s smirk becomes more pronounced.

“I should have known. You are always trying to get me more in touch with my emotional side,” he says, “I fail to see why I thought this time would be any different.”

“Are you upset with me, Spock?”

“Not at all. I find myself quite content. How do we dance, Jim?”

“We’ve been dancing.”

Sure enough, Jim had easily started them into a slow sort of swaying, carefully guiding Spock into an even slower spin. He grins at Spock. They’re so close. He can see every detail in Spock’s face, and Spock can see every detail in his.

“Is dancing not usually done to music?”

“Usually, yes. Would you like some?”

“If I am to truly decide whether or not I like dancing, it would be best to have the full experience.”

Jim’s smile softens, and finding it easiest, he begins to hum. It’s an older song, one from when he was much younger, but it’s a lovely tune for this kind of dancing. They keep moving closer to each other, until their chests are pressed together, until there’s no space between them. Jim’s head drops onto Spock’s shoulder, his face pressed against his neck.

“Jim… I believe I find dancing… quite enjoyable.”

“We’ll have to do more of it then,” Jim whispers to his neck.

They pull back enough to look at one another, peering into each other’s eyes, leaning in closer and closer until-

An alarm jolts Jim awake, coming to with a start, his face pressed into his pillow. It’s only his alarm to wake up. He sighs heavily, wanting to go back into his dream. He’s only slightly troubled by the fact he’s fallen in love with Spock and dreams of him often. He’s more troubled by the fact he’s sure he’s been dreaming of Spock since before he met him.

Spock also wakes with his alarm and soft music still humming in his ears. This isn’t the first time he’s dreamed of Jim, and he’s sure it won’t be the last, but he’s still upset by the prospect of having to wake up. He hears Jim in their shared bathroom and feels love blossom fiercely in his chest. Oh, how he loves him…

In this moment, the decision to tell each other is easy, but it is a matter for another time. For now, there is work to be done.

* * *

 

“Jim, I would like to talk with you about something.”

He turns, sees Spock standing stiffly, and immediately worries. Stepping close, he says, “Of course, Spock. You can talk with me about anything.”

“I fear this conversation may become… awkward in some way.”

“We’ve had our fair share of awkward conversations. I don’t think one more will hurt. Come on, Spock, talk to me.”

They sit together on the small couch, Jim feeling increasingly worried and Spock feeling increasingly anxious.

“Tell me, Jim… do you dream?” Spock asks.

Jim feels his pulse spike but answers, “Yes, I do. I dream fairly often.”

“As do I. I feel the need to-... Jim, I do not know how to say this any way other than bluntly. I have been dreaming of you.”

Spock’s pulse is racing, his anxiety high, but he does feel a sense of relief. Jim only feels shock.

“You-? You’ve been dreaming of me?”

“Yes, captain- Jim. Quite often… last night, as a matter of fact.”

“Spock, what did you dream of?” Jim asks, almost breathless.

“Simply you and I. We were dancing.”

A wave of relief crashes over Jim, putting tears in his eyes.

“How? How were we dancing?”

“Slowly,” Spock says, his voice quiet, “You-... You held me close. We moved very slowly, and- and I enjoyed it very much.”

“Is that the first time you’ve ever dreamed of me?”

Jim’s voice is shaking, unsteady, his emotions roiling.

“No. I have dreamed of you many times before. I believe, truthfully, that I have been dreaming of you since before we even met- Jim? Have I said something to upset you?”

Only then does Jim become aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he’s able to steady his voice enough to tell Spock, “No, no I’m not upset. I’m very happy. You see, Spock… I’ve been dreaming of you, too, ever since before we met. I’ve dreamt of you and of Vulcan and of us-... God, Spock I’m just so happy. I had the same dream as you last night, the one where we were dancing.”

“Would you like to return to that dream, Jim? Would you like to dance?”

“I would like very much to return to that dream, but preferably where we left off when we were so rudely woken up.”

Spock arches his eyebrow, smiling now, and says, “The dream ended as we were about to kiss.”

“Yes, I know. That’s the part I was most looking forward to,” Jim smiles back.

“Then we should get right to it, as I was also looking forward to-”

It was well worth the wait.


End file.
